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And like clockwork, she strolls through my door with her spare key fifteen minutes later, arms full of groceries. She drops them on the counter and starts pulling things out like it’s a treasure chest. Treasure chest of treats—the very best kind.
“I got everything. Chips, ice cream, cookie dough to eat and cookie dough to bake, licorice, sour watermelon slices, annnd…” She pulls out one last thing and the corner of her mouth lifts. “Crunchwrap Supremes.”
A bubble of laughter creeps up my throat and bursts past my lips as I lunge for Charlee, wrapping my arms around her and collapsing into a fresh set of choking sobs. “You know how much I love those.”
“They’re terrible for you.” Her hand is buried in my hair while she whispers to me, rocking me gently back and forth. She’ll make a great momma one day.
“They shouldn’t make something so terrible taste so delicious,” I sniffle.
Charlee and I wind up drunk in my bed, watching episode after episode of trash TV, covered in junk food. I lick the dripping ice cream from the cookie sandwich I made and try to send her an angry glare with my glossy eyes. It doesn’t work; she just snorts a laugh and pats my head.
“You yelled at me this morning.” I pout up at her, pushing my bottom lip out as far as it’ll go in my current state.
“Yeah, well, you needed it.” Her arched brow dares me to argue with her. I won’t; she’s right. “That piece of shit has been in your life way longer than you should have ever allowed him to stay.”
“Why do girls do this to themselves? Why do we get so far up our own asses that we refuse to see what’s right in front of us? Do you think I’m that desperate? That I wanted to be in a relationship so bad that I refused to acknowledge the pile of garbage that my life turned into?”
Charlee tosses the bag of licorice she’s holding, watching as it goes sliding across the bed, dropping to the floor. Her eyes shift my way. “Oops.”
She sits up and turns to me, grabbing my wrists in her hands. I still have my ice cream cookie sandwich in my hand, so this is an issue. I drop my head toward my lap, trying to eat my cookie. Priorities.
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs out. But then she sighs and reaches forward, brushing a loose wave off my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You weren’t desperate to be somebody’s girlfriend, Claire. You were desperately trying to hold onto the man you thought he was and the relationship you had in the beginning. And there’s no shame in that. You were hoping for the best, but at a certain point, you gotta stop giving people like Aaron second chances.”
“Why do people change?” Aaron had been perfect in the beginning. He’d reeled me in in literally one night. I was hooked on a couple charming lines, a few touches, and a sweet goodnight kiss. By the end of the week, we’d been on three dates and I was officially his girlfriend. It’d been that easy. But the last year-and-a-half had been anything but easy.
“Sometimes people change for the better, Claire.” Leaning back against the pillows, she stretches her legs out in front of her, fingers lacing behind her head. Her tone changes to match her relaxed posed. “And sometimes they mold themselves into giant pieces of steaming dog shit, like Aaron.”
Barking out a laugh, I pull myself from the bed, dusting the crumbs off my sweater. “Okay, I need to put this crap away. I feel so sick and the last thing I wanna do is let myself gain twenty pounds because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”
Charlee lifts one perfect brow. “Did you literally just get up and dust yourself off? What a great euphemism. I like it.” She grins when my eyes roll. “You’re gonna be okay, Claire, I know it. You’re strong. Don’t let him ruin you.”
“He’s not ruining me.” No. I refuse. Still, I tack on a quick, “Just maybe for men.”
“But he’s not a man; he’s a child. You need to get laid by a real man who’s gonna toss you around and show you how to feel good.”
The tip of my finger absently traces the shape of my lips. That’d be good, to be honest. The sex was often enough with Aaron, but less than stellar. Same position and always over in three minutes, start to finish. Like, including foreplay. Which didn’t really exist. Which means I barely ever got off.
Thank God for little plastic toys that vibrate.
“We had to use lube,” I blurt out.
Charlee blinks up at me. “What’s wrong with using lube? I use it sometimes. You can get those tingly ones, or the flavored ones, or—”
“No, like, we had to use it.” I stare at her, eyes wide. “I never got wet for him. Not for the last while, at least.”
Charlee deadpans for a solid minute. Then she collapses backwards on the bed, clutching her stomach, howling with laughter. “Oh my God, Claire, c’mon! How? How!” She grabs my shoulders, giving me a violent shake. “How did you go so long like that?”
“I took care of it myself,” I say with a shrug.
She gives me a wicked smile. “I bet you did, dirty girl. Okay, you gotta get properly laid.”
“I literally just broke up with my cheating boyfriend. Don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
“Why not? This is the best part of a break-up! Now you go out and let all the guys tell you how gorgeous you are and how much they wanna get between those luscious thighs of yours. Then you let them do it, and you feel really fucking good.”
“It’s tempting.” I stumble my way to the kitchen with my arms full. Charlee slides in after me, slamming into me from behind. “But I’m not in the right space for that. I don’t do casual well. I’d probably just wind up crying all over them.”
“Can we at least go out next weekend and drink our sorrows away? Dance? Grind up on some guys? You don’t have to go home with them. Just let them whisper dirty nothings into your ear.”
